A few weeks ago we got a call from our church informing us that they are taking photos for the directory. They wanted all church members to schedule their photos. So, since My Wife and I haven't had our photos professionally done in about 3 or 4 years I signed us up.

The day came and we went and sat for our photos. Afterwards they take you into a room and show them to you so that you can pick out which ones you want. My Wife, as always, forgot to take off her glasses, so several photos were discarded simply because of the glare in the lenses.

"Oh, they'll touch these up before you get them. They can remove that glare," the salesperson assured us.

"But it completely obscures her eyes," I pointed out, "and if you don't get a person's eyes JUST RIGHT then the photo is crap. I don't think they can fix that."

"No, they can. You'd be surprised," she reassured me.

"No, I don't think so," I insisted, and rejected those photos.

I wasn't thrilled with the options that were left to us after removing the ones where My Wife's eyes were just white flashes because I looked less than stellar in the remaining photos. Somehow I looked my best in photos in which she had no eyes. Hmm.

When the photos arrived in the mail yesterday I was shocked. "Who the hell is that?!" I asked while looking at my own face.

"What's wrong," My Wife who didn't see why it mattered that her eyes were missing in the rejected photos asked.

Even though I'm pretty sure they fucked up the photos with their touch-ups I still don't like the trend I'm seeing. Fewer and fewer photos of me are even remotely recognizable to me. I look at them and say "who is that?"

Earlier this week Kami was commenting on how bad she thought she looked in a photo of herself. She said she had crow's feet and she didn't like her arms or something. Her friends assured her that she looks great. And to be honest, Kami is a fine looking Texas hottie. But I understand how she must be feeling.

Lately I look in the bathroom mirror and don't know who I'm looking at. That's not me in there. I don't know who it is, but it's not me. In the photos that the church photographer fucked up all I can really say, aside from the fact that you shouldn't fuck with the eyes in a photo if you want the customer to buy it, is that it was a photo of my dad.

I am running my ass off these days, but I can't run far enough or fast enough to fix this. That's not my face. I don't know who that is, but it isn't me.

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9. "Sugar" is a more common form of address than "Miss". So is "Honey".

10. "Presley" can only be properly pronounced by a native Memphian, so do NOT attempt the pronunciation. People will simply tilt their heads to the right and stare at you with their mouths open.

11. The falling of one raindrop causes all traffic to immediately come to a screeching halt. So will Daylight Saving Time, a girl applying eye shadow across the street, or a flat tire three lanes over. Should (God Forbid) one snowflake fall in Memphis, all drivers on the roads immediately lose any ability to control a car. Or, if in a pickup truck or SUV, they will drive as though the roads are dry.

12. If you're standing on a corner and a Metro Bus stops, you're expected to get on and go somewhere - although no one actually knows where the buses go.

13. Memphis is pronounced "MEM'-fus".

14. Construction on I-240 is perpetual, a way of life, and a permanent form of entertainment for the road construction companies.

15. Construction crews aren't doing their job properly unless they close down all lanes except one during rush hour.

16. Memphis' traffic is the friendliest around. The commuters spend hours mingling with each other twice a day. In fact, Memphis' traffic is rated number 1 in the country. You will often see people parked beside the road and engaged in lively discussions.

17. I-240 is the southern equivalent of the Autobahn. You will rarely see s semi-truck on I-240, because the truck drivers are intimidated by the oversized SUV-wielding housewives racing home after a grueling day at the salon or the tennis match, to meet their children at the school bus.

18. The 95 pound woman driving the Ford Excursion (the largest vehicle ever produced in the world) absolutely MUST come to a complete stop, then proceed at 2.5 mph over any railroad track. Let's face it, this vehicle was built to invade small countries, and she's worried about the darn railroad tracks!!!

19. Hard and fast rule of the road in Memphis: Never use your turn indicator when changing lanes on any freeway. Use it randomly on surface streets.

20. Pedestrians in Memphis have the right-of-way....but it is a driver's duty to take out the pedestrian when crossing the street.

21. The parking lots at all the malls rotate once every hour, thus ensuring that visitors will be unable to find their cars.

22. Most native Memphians do not know how to get around downtown.

23. Even though I-240 is known as a "loop", you cannot drive the entire circumference of the loop without taking several exits.

24. Even though it is the largest indoor arena in the region, there is no easy way to reach the Pyramid. You must drive under a series of interstate off-ramps and through the back of a concrete company in order to park. Once you reach the building, you must climb up dozens of steps, even if your seats are at floor level, which means you will be climbing back DOWN dozens of steps after entering the arena.

25. A typical set of Midtown directions may include, "take North Parkway East until you reach East Parkway, then take East Parkway South until you reach South Parkway, then take South Parkway West until you reach..."

26. If you drive South from Shady Grove Road, you will end up on Ridgeway Road without taking any turns. If you continue South, you will eventually be on Hickory Hill Blvd, again without taking any turns. However, Ridgeway Road will be parallel to you about a mile to the East. Memphis' street names change without warning. It is common knowledge that Memphis was laid out by a drunk Indian on a crippled horse. Just go to Winchester Road out East, and try to distinguish between the intersections of Germantown Road, Old Germantown Road, and Germantown Road Extended/Riverdale.

27. There is an intersection of two streets near Midtown. The "two"streets are Summer Avenue, North Parkway, Trezevant Blvd., and East Parkway. Again, names change at random. This situation (two intersecting streets with four names) is not atypical.

28. Native Memphians cannot distinguish between the Mississippi River bridges named "Memphis-Arkansas Bridge" and "Hernando DeSoto Bridge". Nor can they distinguish between the "I-55 Bridge" and the "I-40 Bridge". They are ONLY known locally as the "Old Bridge" and the "New Bridge" (even though the "New Bridge" is OVER thirty years old).

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You have medium extroversion.You're not the life of the party, but you do show up for the party.Sometimes you are full of energy and open to new social experiences.But you also need to hibernate and enjoy your "down time."

Conscientiousness:

You have medium conscientiousness.You're generally good at balancing work and play.When you need to buckle down, you can usually get tasks done.But you've been known to goof off when you know you can get away with it.

Agreeableness:

You have medium agreeableness.You're generally a friendly and trusting person.But you also have a healthy dose of cynicism.You get along well with others, as long as they play fair.

Neuroticism:

You have high neuroticism.It's easy for you to feel shaken, worried, or depressed.You often worry, and your worries prevent you from living life fully.You tend to be emotionally reactive and moody. Your either flying very high or feeling very low.

Openness to experience:

Your openness to new experiences is high.In life, you tend to be an early adopter of all new things and ideas.You'll try almost anything interesting, and you're constantly pushing your own limits.A great connoisseir of art and beauty, you can find the positive side of almost anything.

Because it's Monday and my brain is shut down, here are a few random thoughts about blogging:

People who blog often are merely throwing out random thoughts without much consideration. Often, after blogging for a long time, people become so comfortable with this idea that they say things they normally never would, sometimes even saying things they don't even mean. Some of these people, feeling some sort of sense of journalistic integrity, will not remove thoughts once expressed, but choose instead to post again saying "yesterday I said so and so, but today I regret it and take it back." Others simply remove the post entirely. On "Law and Order Criminal Intent" I would be classified as a disorganized serial killer because I do both.

It isn't uncommon for people to blog when they are upset, leading them to do or say things they wouldn't normally do or say. An example might be a person posting nude or half-nude photos of themselves, either because they are caught up in the moment of other bloggers doing the same or perhaps because they are mad at someone and want to embarrass them. It may seem odd, but it happens a lot. Just wait, you'll start your blog today and be naked all over the internet tomorrow. Oh yes, you will!

Perhaps the only truly unforgivable sin of the blog is to leave a comment on someone else's blog insulting all the other commentors for no good reason, rather than limiting your attacks to the owner of the blog. Very few bloggers will tolerate this. Usually there is no good excuse for it.

I know of no bloggers who have editors. This leaves all of us in the unfortunate position of trying to police ourselves. I started blogging simply because I don't have an editor to advise me and help me avoid poor writing. I had hoped blogging would improve my writing, but clearly it hasn't. I still write "stream of conciousness", throwing out comments that are only marginally related to the topic I was trying to write about. If I had an editor they could help me by saying things like, "what is this crap? This isn't adding anything constructive and will only cause problems. I'm deleting this part, you fuckwit."

The advantage to not having an editor is that a blogger is free to write whatever they please. For example, if Binsk wants to use the word "gay" to mean "dumb" or "goofy" then she is free to do so. When someone tries to criticize and preach to her about it being "wrong" or "sinful" she can respond in any way she pleases, even enjoying the assistance of half a million Canadian friends who come to her defense against the fuckwit. Binsk has good friends. They are all loyal Mapleleaf fans.

Because this is a blog and I have no editor to force my writing to be PC, I can call the fanatic who attacked Binsk a "fuckwit" and hardly anyone cares.

Most bloggers don't get paid. Thus, if blogging increases their stress rather than relaxing them they often quit.

Blogging is time-consuming. Sometimes a blogger may spend 2 hours trying to write a reply to a single comment simply because they like the person commenting. Thus they make a special effort to help that one person better understand what was meant in a post that probably took half as long to write in the first place. But people with jobs can't afford to do this. They are often forced to either not respond at all or else limit responses to statements like, "oh, that's interesting."

The most interesting bloggers are usually the people who live the most wreckless lives. Someone who sleeps with lots of people, gets extremely drunk frequently, and punches people they see with their exes are far more fun to read about than someone who simply goes to work every day, never cusses, never gets angry at asshats in traffic, and never sleeps with anyone of note.

A blog is not a newspaper or a magazine. There is no obligation to be fair and balanced or even to allow a dissenting opinion. Blogs are a lot like the New York Times in this way.

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See? This is why I no longer have my photo up on MySpace, or anywhere else, for that matter. It’s these crazy people who go around trying to kill the other people on the internet that have inspired my anonymity. And you know how much this stupid girl tried to pay the “hitman” to kill the other girl? $500. Yeah, just $500. And she wonders why she got caught. What a nutjob. A good hit costs over $500,000. And I’ll take it in tens and twenties, if you please.

It’s amazing what money can buy, isn’t it? If there’s one thing to be learned from watching the United Nations at work it’s that every official can be bought. Hell, just watching the Supreme Court over the past 20 years should have taught us that. Judges are probably the cheapest officials of all. I wonder how much this one cost? I’ll bet Saddam promised him 5 minutes alone in a rape room with the supermodel of his choice in exchange for throwing the trial. Hey, I’d do it. “Tyrant, smyrant, this man is innocent. Now where’s Heidi Klum?”

I thought those space suits were fart-proof? Surely someone goofed because I know the old ones were. You could rip a big burrito-blastoff and no one but you could smell a thing. Then again, it would make your eyes practically catch on fire if you had a helmet on, so maybe they installed an escape hatch to let the methane out? And now they have a “chemical leak” in their space station. Idiots. “He who smelt it, dealt it” is not just a nursery rhyme for kids. It’s a NASA bylaw.

Amends for what? For speaking the truth about the terrorists? Oh, silly me. I keep forgetting that we live in a world where people are condemned and even killed for simply speaking the truth. If you want to be rich, if you want to be a star, you simply tell everyone what you think they want to hear. No one loves anyone more than they love a good liar. But if the Pope were to act just like everyone else, what would his purpose be?

Yes, very, very scary. The remarkable incompetence of the entrenched upper managements at both of these former titans have decided that, instead of firing the old narcissistic socialists who have run these giants into the ground, they should instead merge them all together, creating a behemoth of failure unlike any the world has seen before, thus assuring that when they ultimately do fall, it will send shockwaves around the globe. This is what happens when corporations do exactly the opposite of what Peter Drucker advises, trying to appease the Jesse Jacksons and Eleanor Smeals, getting caught up in “social” crusades, and focusing on everything other than their intended purpose. The lack of profits, or even corporate viability, is a screaming testament to affirmative action and the anti-white-male crusading mentality. The ship is sinking, yet even as it goes under, the “social justice” pirates will still be sucking the last few pennies out of it. God bless America. Toyota is thrilled.

Only in Big Government is this the first that anyone has thought of this. Yes, the massive abuse of our social security numbers is a huge cause of identity theft, now a major crime wave in this country. How fabulous of our great leaders to only just now think of this, as the rest of us have known it for several years already.

Chavez, eh? This pinheaded spider-monkey could call Rosie O’Donnell ‘the devil’ and it’d still ring hollow. He openly admires Mao Tse-Tsung, Joseph Stalin, and Fidel Castro while doing the best he can to emulate them. Let’s tell the Muslims that he insulted them, just for the hell of it.

Oh for crying out loud, you can’t even prove it’s real, you stupid, mentally retarded gay vegan religious fanatics! And you authorized them to sell those cars in your state while thoroughly inspecting each and every one of them, so the liability is yours. Maybe all the citizens of California should join together in suing their state government instead? They can charge you for approving the sale of tobacco products while they’re at it. And guns, too. All were gleefully approved and taxed, only to be betrayed and sued by this very same state government even as it continued to grab up all that tax money with both hands. Hypocrisy, thy name is California.

You’ve got to be kidding me. Those have to be some massively distracted security people for some guy to get by with a leopard in his pants. I don’t care how baggy those pants are, you can’t hide a damned leopard or monkey in there without somebody noticing that something ain’t quite right. Oh wait, the federal government took over the airport security responsibilities, didn’t it? OK, that explains everything.

Hmm, she cut off his penis and stabbed him in the rectum after she had already killed him, and somehow this is self-defense? Well, I guess if cutting off a sleeping man’s penis is self-defense then most anything else can qualify too. Fuck it.

Yes, because all their predictions from the fuckin’ 1980s that AIDS would devastate the heterosexual community in the United States have panned out so well, right? Oh, I'm sorry, there's tax money to be skimmed here, isn't there? How silly of me to almost overlook that.

Hmm, that sounds about right, somehow. Apparently she was the only woman in the fortress, which was normally completely empty except for the small army of employees. Since shooting her he’s run off to the woods to be eaten by bears. This will likely be an instant made-for-TV movie within the week, but with all the details changed until it’s unrecognizable to even the people who knew them. In the meantime, there will be a new federal law written and passed in the blink of an eye making it a special new crime to shoot a woman while she’s in a shelter because, you know, that would have stopped it.

I was going to write a post that was just basically stolen from a friend. And by ‘stolen’ I mean that he wrote something similar and he is funnier than me. But then I realized that if I stole from every blogger who is funnier than me then I’d never get to write any of my own stuff, because let’s face it, most of you are pretty damned funny and I am a shameless hack.

That’s when I realized that I spend all of my time trying to please you all instead of just doing what I want, which is to be having sex with you. Well, except for you guys. And obviously since I have only actually met a very few of you in person, all of whom I already knew in person and who mostly still haven't had sex with me, the whole having sex idea just becomes impossible.

Unless I was willing to travel a lot. And you were willing and anxious enough for me to show up at your door to tell me your address. That’s important, too, because otherwise I’d just be like “OK, I know Leesa lives in Montana somewhere, but beyond that I guess I’m just gonna have to cruise around and hope I run into her by total accident.”

Yeah, that wouldn’t work very well. A lot of your states are pretty big, like Wisconsin for example. And Texas. And California. And Florida. And pretty much all of Canada. Yeah, you know where you live. But I don't. Not specifically.

Also, the whole having sex with you all is a problem because I am already married, as many of you already know. And my wife, bless her heart, is not into the “open marriage” thing that some of you might be experimenting with. And by “experimenting” I mean driving other women’s husbands crazy because you are so much hotter than regular mortal women. Yeah, because that one guy with the camera sure seemed to be hot and bothered for someone else’s woman and who could blame him? She’s a looker. And he’s clearly hooked on her like a stalker with his tongue frozen to a window pane in Canada. Binsk should understand this reference, I’m sure. Men probably follow her around like ducks after a kid with a bag of bread. She’s beautiful and single and it’s cold up there when you hang out in her bushes all night long without any pants on.

I’m just assuming a good stalker goes around without any pants on. I could be wrong about that. Someone help me out here.

So anyway, I had a point I was going to make and that is that it would sure help me out if you guys would be less funny and just come here every day to leave your best jokes in my comments instead of on your own pages. That would make me feel much better about myself and also make other people who happen by think that I am much, much funnier than I really am.

I think I need to poop now.

(This post gives a whole new meaning to "Fuck You Friday", doesn't it? I hadn't thought of that until just now.)

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The Brother-In-Law is in the military, as I mentioned before. He's been put on blood pressure medicine, some of the most powerful available, because his blood pressure is so high. High blood pressure runs in his family. Being in the military tends to add to the problem. Being married to Lulu, though, is a whole separate issue.

Lulu knows all about her hubby's blood pressure problem. Ever since she moved in she's been making his dinners with so much salt in it that no one, but no one, can stand to eat it. Salt and tons and tons of butter. He's tired and he's hungry and he wants to get along, so he eats it. Both My Wife and the Mother-In-Law told her to stop making it that way or she'll kill him. Lulu insists that it's just the way she makes it and there's nothing wrong.

Yeah, can you say "premeditated murder"?

How about "life insurance"?

I knew you could.

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When ABC took over ESPN I knew it was a bad thing. When ESPN took over Monday Night Football I had some serious reservations and suspicions about what the network that outed Ellen DeGeneres against her will were up to. When the NFL adopted a policy requiring that all the sideline announcers of football games be women, most of whom never played any sports at all, I rolled my eyes. But when Monday Night Football begins requiring its' announcers to say "thank you from all of the WOMEN and MEN of ESPN's Monday Night Football for watching," that's where I draw the line. I almost puked at hearing former football giants practically hand over their penises to The Church of the PC Bitch.

Maybe it's the steroids that shrank their balls down to the size of a pin? That must be it. These former-men can't possibly be so pathetic and weak that they would willingly participate in the castration of football unless they have somehow lost their balls to steroid abuse.

Say it ain't so.

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I've Never French-Kissed A Member Of The Opposite Sex.I've Never French-Kissed A Member Of The Same Sex.I'veNever Had Sex With A Member Of The Opposite Sex.I've Never Had Sex With A Member Of The Same Sex.I've Never Had A Three-Some.I've Never Been In Love.I've Never Had Sex In A Public Place.I've Never Had Group Intercourse.I've Never Been Spanked.I've Never Been Tied Up.I've Never Regretted Having Sex With Someone.I've Never Made Out With A Stranger.I've Never Gone On A Blind Date.I've Never Had A Crush On A Teacher or Professor.I've Never Slept With A Co-Worker.I've Never Had Sex At The Office.I've Never Been Married.I've Never Been Divorced.I've Never Had Sex With More Than One Person Within The Same Week.I've Never Posed Nude.I've Never Watched Porn.I've Never Gotten Someone Drunk Just To Have Sex With Them.I've Never Received Scars From My Sex Partner.I've Never Had Sex At A Friend's House While They Were Throwing A Party.I've Never Had Sex In A Dressing Room.I've Never Flashed Anyone.I've Never Met Anyone From Online.I've Never Cheated On My Significant Other.I've Never Masturbated.I've Never Used A Sex Toy On Myself.I've Never Used A Sex Toy On Someone Else.I've Never Danced On A Table Or Bar.I've Never Strip-Teased For Anyone.I've Never Received A Hand Job.I've Never Given A Hand Job.I've Never Had Sex In A Hammock.I've Never Performed Oral Sex.I've Never Received Oral Sex.I've Never Had Anal Sex.I've Never Had Sex involving a strapon.I've Never Given/Received A Golden Shower.I've Never Had Sex With Someone While Fantasizing About Having Sex With Someone Else.I've Never Had A Sex Dream.I've Never Had An Orgasm By Myself.I've Never Had An Orgasm With/By Someone Else.I've Never Had Phone Sex.I've Never Had Cyber Sex.I've Never Role-Played.I've Never Played Strip Poker.I've Never Cheated on my Taxes.I've Never Farted on the TV Screen.I've Never Fantasized About Having Sex With Carmen Electra.

Basically, I never really lived life to its' fullest. Don't be like Memphis. Live while you're alive.

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The next time you are washing your hands and complain because the water temperature isn't just how you like it, think about how things used to be. Here are some facts about the 1500s:

Most people got married in June because they took their yearly bath in May, and still smelled pretty good by June. However, they were starting to smell, so brides carried a bouquet of flowers to hide the body odor. Hence the custom today of carrying a bouquet when getting married.

Baths consisted of a big tub filled with hot water. The man of the house had the privilege of the nice clean water, then all the other sons and men, then the women and finally the children. Last of all the babies.

By then the water was so dirty you could actually lose someone in it. Hence the saying, Don't throw the baby out with the Bath water.

Houses had thatched roofs-thick straw-piled high, with no wood underneath. It was the only place for animals to get warm, so all the cats and other small animals (mice, bugs) lived in the roof. When it rained it became slippery and sometimes the animals would slip and fall off the roof. Hence the saying It's raining cats and dogs.

There was nothing to stop things from falling into the house. This posed a real problem in the bedroom where bugs and other droppings could mess up your nice clean bed. Hence, a bed with big posts and a sheet hung over the top afforded some protection. That's how canopy beds came into existence.

The floor was dirt. Only the wealthy had something other than dirt. Hence the saying, Dirt poor.

The wealthy had slate floors That would get slippery in the winter when wet, so they spread thresh (straw) on floor to help keep their footing. As the winter wore on, they added more thresh until, when you opened the door, it would all start slipping outside. A piece of wood was placed in the entranceway.

Hence the saying a thresh hold.

(Getting quite an education, aren't you?)

In those old days, they cooked in the kitchen with a big kettle that always hung over the fire. Every day they lit the fire and added things to the pot. They ate mostly vegetables and did not get much meat. They would eat the stew for dinner, leaving leftovers in the pot to get cold overnight and then start over the next day. Sometimes stew had food in it that had been there for quite a while. Hence the rhyme, Peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold, peas porridge in the pot nine days old.

Sometimes they could obtain pork, which made them feel quite special. When visitors came over, they would hang up their bacon to show off. It was a sign of wealth that a man could, bring home the bacon... They would cut off a little to share with guests and would all sit around and chew the fat.

Those with money had plates made of pewter. Food with high acid content caused some of the lead to leach onto the food, causing lead poisoning death. This happened most often with tomatoes, so for the next 400 years or so, tomatoes were considered poisonous.

Bread was divided according to status. Workers got the burnt bottom of the loaf, the family got the middle, and guests got the top, or the upper crust.

Lead cups were used to drink ale or whisky. The combination would sometimes knock the imbibers out for a couple of days. Someone walking along the road would take them for dead and prepare them for burial.

They were laid out on the kitchen table for a couple of days and the family would gather around and eat and drink and wait and see if they would wake up. Hence the custom of holding a wake.

England is old and small and the local folks started running out of places to bury people. So they would dig up coffins and would take the bones to a bone-house, and reuse the grave. When reopening these coffins, 1 out of 25 coffins were found to have scratch marks on the inside and they realized they had been burying people alive. So they would tie a string on the wrist of the corpse, lead it through the coffin and up through the ground and tie it to a bell. Someone would have to sit out in the graveyard all night (the graveyard shift.) to listen for the bell; thus, someone could be, saved by the bell. Or was considered a ... dead ringer.

And that's the truth...

Now, whoever said History was boring?

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It may sound crazy at first, but if you think about it then it becomes more and more logical. Certain breeds of dogs would probably make better drivers than many people I know. The biggest advantage would be that dogs would never be on their cell phones while driving. They don’t need them. They just bark out the windows.

So they just thought maybe he was a fugitive? Meaning he might not have been? And they just went ahead and shot at him just in case, right? Yeah, where was this again? I don’t want to live there. Wait, I already live in Memphis. Nevermind, it’s too late.

Where was the man? Was he not there, too? Was he out in the parking lot somewhere or over in sporting goods when his gun just up and fired itself for no apparent reason? Why would his gun be in the bathroom? Did it need to go pee? Maybe this headline is a wee bit misleading?

Has there ever been a time in the entire existence of baby boomers in which they weren’t more heavily into drugs than anyone else? There has never been, nor is there ever likely to be, a generation that uses drugs as much as the baby boomers. This isn’t a news flash. It’s just true. Have you seen the video footage of Woodstock? Oh my God.

Yes, of course it needs protection, because those Japanese are going to call in Godzilla to attack it like they always do. I’ve seen this one. The worm shoots rays from it’s ass and Godzilla burns it up with fire, turning it into a giant burrito.

Yes, of course, because Jesus was all about that sort of thing. He told his disciples to go into the world and pick up aluminum cans everywhere they could find them in order to melt them down and reuse them. Sure, and the milk jugs, too. He was big on the collecting of the milk jugs for making new plastic things out of. In fact, he never had time enough to do anything else because he was so busy with recycling. Wait, no he didn't.

What crashes? Are you calling the attacks of 9/11 ‘crashes’? That’s rather generous, don’t you think? Calling it just ‘crashes’ sounds like it was some sort of accident. It wasn’t. It was mass murder. It was an attack.

Did you know that the UK has effectively repealed the entire English Common Law system and instituted laws that more closely resemble the Soviet Union than any Western system of law? You can now be tried and retried indefinitely for any crime, giving the State the power to bankrupt the accused into a guilty plea no matter how wealthy they are, or how innocent. This is tyranny, plain and simple. I don’t care how emotional or upsetting this particular case is. This is a huge mistake.

100 days since what? Since you last used heroin? Everyone knows you were totally incompetent during the Katrina crisis. And since then you’ve only continued to make an ass of yourself. Why don’t you do yourself a favor and just shut your mouth for awhile?

Are birds just that hard to find in India, or were the searchers just really, really picky? Why did it take them 50 years to find a bird? Birds are everywhere. Was there something special about this bird? What happened to the old bird?

Apparently we just haven’t been looking in the right places. Perhaps if we level Syria we might find him? But then what will we do once we’ve got him? We’ve had Saddam in some sort of circus trial for the past several years where he basically thumbs his nose at us and sticks out his tongue. It’s not like this is any sort of real trial. It was the same with Milosevic. It was just a big show and everyone knew it. He did the same thing, practically mooning the “judges” from his seat in the big top. Are we going to shoot this fucker when we find him or is this all just another waste of time?

What exactly is an “African American” anyway? I mean, 99.9 percent of the black people in America have never been to Africa and have no relatives who have lived there for the past 200 to 400 years, so what is this label supposed to mean? On the news, where everyone is so Politically Correct that you just want to slap them, they even refer to black people in Europe as “African Americans.” In fact, on the Discovery Channel they refer to black Africans as “African Americans.” So apparently the term has absolutely nothing to do with either Africa or America. What does it mean? I think it means “I’m a spineless pussy who thinks that I can win favor with black people by kissing their asses with a label they never even asked for.” That’s what I think it means. Anyone else noticed that the same dickless fags who say “African American” will then say “white” to describe “European Americans”? Yeah, ass-kissing, hypocritical pussies. If I were black, I would trust these people about as far as I could throw them from my speeding Cadillac Escalade SUV with 22 inch rims.

That’s because every single bit of it is being done exclusively on women. That’s what Congress ordered back in the 1990s and so that’s what’s being done. See how helpful politicians are? Yeah, gotta love’em, ‘cause it’s illegal to shoot’em.

That’s because they’ve spent their entire budget searching for their keys. What this should really say is “Elderly experts unable to find their keys” ‘cause they’re addlebrained and government-funded. Anyone ever checked into what is required to qualify as an “expert” in the press? Yeah, you just have to say what they want you to say and that pretty much does it – wah-la, you’re an expert.

Many people are unaware that George Soros was allegedly a Hitler Youth as a child growing up in Germany. He enthusiastically helped round up his fellow Jews, including his own neighbors, who were sent off to death camps. When the Soviet Communists poured in as Germany fell to the United States, good-hearted George quickly changed allegiances and joined the communist party. He’s never once expressed any regret for the evil things he’s done, perhaps because he’s not finished doing them yet? But he is a master of survival. He can thrive under any circumstances, as most sociopaths can. He fully understands the importance of good PR and the illusion of respectability. More than that, he knows the world-dominating potential of the United Nations. No sociopath can resist the temptation of absolute power, and George sees that potential being all too real in his beloved UN. George is the man who convinced Christian-hating Ted Turner to pledge $1 billion to the UN, for unspecified future purposes. Ted has since reneged on his pledge after being buttfucked by Steve Case and Gerald Levin in the AOL/Time Warner scandal, I mean, merger.

On the lovely and nauseating program, The View, co-host Elisabeth Hasselbeck said that militant Islam is a threat to all free people. Rosie instantly responded by firing off this revealing gem: "Radical Christianity is just as threatening as radical Islam in a country like America where we have separation of church and state." The thing I find most interesting about this story is that I had to go to World Net Daily just to find a reporter even talking about Rosie equating average Christians with Islamic terrorists. Reuters and the AP didn’t mention it once. $100 says Rosie won’t lose her job for this latest verbal spewing of hate on a large group of Americans. Fuck you, Rosie, and not just because it's Friday.

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Well, that about sums it up for me. But something tells me your solution to this problem is my money, right? After you get it and get elected you'll forget all about me, won't you?Yep.

"But this is one [politician] who is not afraid to stand up and let everyone -- from Tim Russert on NBC's Meet the Press to the editorial board of the New York Times to my constituents back home in [Poopooville] know exactly where I stand on the issues ...

... and I am proving that today with my 2006 Personal Pledge!"

Yeah, dude, this doesn't prove shit. I've heard all this before. It don't mean nothin'. As soon as you get to D.C. you'll drop your pants and shoot a big moon to everyone who voted for you. That's how it always goes.

"In short, I believe support from true-blue [suckers] like you must be earned, deserved and [shamelessly betrayed as soon as possible.]

Which brings me to the second reason I've sent you my Pledge today.

[I want your money.]"

Yeah, I pretty much lost consciousness by this point. The bottom line is that this political wannabe wants my hard earned money. And he's willing to blow smoke up my ass to get it. But here's the real Fuck You Friday kicker to all of this .... he's not even from my state. I can't even vote for the fucker.

Yeah, but he doesn't care. Money is money, and he figures I'm dumb enough to cough up the cash if he just appeals to my desperation as a white heterosexual male in America. Basically, he's just saying "hey buddy, no one in Washington gives a shit about you, but I do. I feel your pain. Send money and I'll help you out." Yeah, once again I must call bullshit.

So, Dear Fellow American politician, all I can say to you is "fuck you" and happy Friday.

LETTER 2:

"Dear Friend"

Ooh, good start so far, 'friend'!

"Will you help me stop Bill Clinton from making the political comeback of his life?

No, why should I?What have you ever done for me?How much is this going to cost me?And more importantly, why the fuck should I even care?

"Because as of this January, Clinton has a shot to clear his name, get back his law license, and prove that his impeachment was a "mistake" by Republicans."

I could give a shit.

"That's why I need your emergency [money] right away.

My friend, please consider what's going on ...."

I am considering what's going on.You're calling me "friend" and then hitting me up for money.

"For the five years of Bill Clinton's ex-presidency, he has traveled around the country on a "redemption tour", stopping wherever there's a baby he can kiss [or a piece of ass he can pound] in front of a camera.

He wrote a 957-page book of transparent, self-serving propaganda titled My Life, which was nothing more than a false rewriting of history.

Yeah, I have a feeling he didn't actually write it.That's what professional writers are for.Just ask Hillary Clinton, or for that matter, John F. Kennedy.They'd both know all about that.And still I find myself not caring.

" ... blah blah blah blah blah ..."

OK, I have to confess, I couldn't maintain focus beyond this point.I actually think I might have better things to do and more important things to think about.Maybe if you sent me actual photos of him pounding Monica Lewinski (oh come on, you know they took took pictures at some point!) then I might be more interested?Maybe if you didn't call me "Friend" while hitting me up for a donation?Yeah, maybe, but probably not.I just don't care anymore.I just don't.My Give-A-Fuck is broken.

So Fuck You, it's Friday!

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I went running during my lunch hour the other day. It was hot and humid and I was dying from an extreme lack of sleep two nights before. The day after not sleeping I was fine, but on the second day, the day I was to run, it was killing me. Still, I'm not pretty enough to skip a workout, so I went anyway.

Between my second and third mile the heat was really getting me. So I took off my shirt and ran without it. As I was coming to the end of my third mile I passed a high school girl and her friend who were standing in her driveway talking. She glanced at me running by and I swear I overheard her say, "Scary!"

Yes, thanks. As if I wasn't motivated enough already. That's lovely. Thanks again. I'm sure the slam will motivate me to keep on running from now until the day I die.

This morning I started the day off by dodging squirrels that were shooting across the street in front of me as I was driving to work. One of them waited until just the wrong moment before he went for it. I tried to dodge, but I could hear the crunch and I knew I had left a flat squirrel pelt on the road where I live. It didn't make me feel very good.

By lunch it was time to run again. It wasn't as hot today. So I popped some Ephedra before taking off. Actually it was Stacker 2, which I believe is off the market and replaced with Stacker 3 or 4 or whatever. Anyway, I still have a bottle. Ephedra makes me feel like I've got a final exam and it's 90 percent of my grade. It makes me shaky and nervous. But it really doesn't make any difference if you feel shaky and nervous when you're in the middle of a run. I always used to feel that same way before every single race in track and cross country. I felt that way before all my basketball games. And I felt that way before every soccer game I ever played. So shaky and nervous aren't a new experience for me. Not that I like it or anything.

There were more people out and about than I expected. I passed a guy mowing the grass at the park, which I thought was interesting since I passed 2 guys mowing the grass at that same park on Tuesday when I ran by. How often do you need to mow the grass? Do they have some kind of mutant super grass? How could it have grown enough to need mowing again so soon?

I passed a guy walking. I waved and he said, "Hello, how are you?" That is about the most unusual thing I think that has ever happened to me here in My Little Redneck Town. Very few people here are friendly enough to even acknowledge me when I wave, let alone speak to me. So I replied as I ran past, "fine, thanks."

Then I passed another runner coming the other way. I waved and he waved back weakly.

Then I passed a huge guy wearing a back brace. I waved and he nodded. I may not be huge like him, but at least I don't have to wear a back brace, that's all I can say. He must have been about 6'5" at least, and built like a weightlifter.

As I exited the park I passed an old man wearing glasses and headphones. I waved and he ignored me. Yeah, he's definitely from here. That's the usual reaction from the natives. Fuck you very much. That's how they respond. Like the girl on Tuesday who say "scary" as I sweated by her.

So I made it home, passing the mailman and two women after the old man. They all had their backs to me, so I didn't wave or shout "hello" at them.

You're probably thinking, "and so what happened next? What was it about your run that was so exciting that you wrote it here?"

Oh, one thing that did happen is that My Wife called me after she got home from work to scream about the TV having all channels above 100 locked out. Neither of us did it, which means that the Dish Network or whatever is hosed again. Then she went off about her car. Something wasn't right. She was just generally in a really awful mood, so she called me at work to blow off steam. You know how badly I don't need that when I'm at work trying to fix a problem with some software? Yeah, I REALLy don't need it. Thanks.

After I got home from work I had to mow the grass. Good thing I put my heavy boots on to do it, because if I hadn't I'd be short one big toe right now. When I was trying to turn the thing off, after having finished mowing, it was vibrating around all over the place in the driveway. This thing shakes more than Janet Reno. It could mow the yard by itself if it'd just shake in a straight line. Anyway, as I leaned over it, the thing turned around towards me and went over my foot, chopping off the top of my boot at the toe. I felt it hit my big toe, which hurt like a mofo, but it chopped the boot instead of my foot and for that I'm eternally grateful. Wow, that was a close call. I'm gonna bronze that boot and buy a new pair.

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Recently, my wife and I started to watch a DVD we had rented, when, before the film even played, I learned something of great interest.

Apparently, in the world of creative entertainment, not only can white men not jump, but we represent most, if not all, of the criminal element.

Amy Trask, Chief Executive of the Oakland Raiders, is shown at their summer training camp in Napa, Calif., in this July 31, 2003 photo. The NFL's rule that at least one minority candidate be interviewed for each head coaching vacancy is the reason there are now a record seven black head coaches, six more than 16 years ago. The University of Central Florida's Institute for Diversity and Ethics in Sport credited the league's "Rooney Rule," adopted in late 2002, for the improvement. However, the report noted that the NFL _ and other pro men's sports, with the exception of basketball _ continued to lag in hiring women. The NFL does have a female president/CEO , Amy Trask of the Oakland Raiders . (AP Photo/Dino Vournas) Before the movie spun, the motion picture industry had inserted a one minute infomercial on the evils of movie piracy and intellectual theft. To make their melodramatic point, they showed a criminal stealing a cell phone. Some thug breaking into a car. And just a total reprobate, stealing a purse. Truly awful people.

The point of course being, just like no decent, law abiding citizen would ever contemplate committing such vile crimes, no upright individual would ever consider downloading a movie off the internet, or buying a cheap, burned copy, with someone’s popcorn in the bottom of the frame, from off the street.

Of course, in the pre-movie infomercial, all three criminals were white men. Which got me to thinking. In the make believe land of movies, television, and commercials, if there is a heinous crime to be committed, 99.9% of the time, it’s now going to be done by a white guy. In fact, it has to be done by a white guy.

Political correctness and the fear of offending, or worse yet, getting sued or picketed, is such, that you will no longer see blacks, Hispanics, most minorities, or even women for that matter, commit a fictional crime. No. Hollywood and the ad agencies have decided that criminal activity on film is now the sole domain of the “too successful for his own good” white male.

Think I’m exaggerating? Watch any commercial on television for any one of the home alarm companies. One hundred percent of the time, it’s always a white guy breaking into the home. In fact, there is one spot now running, where we see an upper-middle class African-American family in a panic as a burglar is trying to break into their home. And just who is this burglar? Why none other than that well known and ubiquitous, evil white male.

Don’t like that example. Okay. Instead, watch any of the commercials for any of the credit card companies that try to sell you a card to replace traveler checks. As the commercial plays out, you see that some low-life, former Enron-like executive white male, has, once again, ruined the vacation of mom, dad, muffy and skip as they tried desperately to enjoy Paris before it too, was torched by insurgents in training.

Still not convinced. Fine. Watch any sitcom or one hour drama on television. Almost without exception, every fictional crime being committed in all of these shows is being done by a white male. “Case closed, Monk. Sanitize your hands and let’s lock up the Caucasian.”

Think the big screen is different. Wrong. Most crimes that take place on the silver screen are committed by white men. Of course, just for a laugh, Hollywood will, on occasion, out due itself as it stretches the bounds of political correctness, by throwing a completely impossible scene of reverse stereotyping at the film fan.

Case in point, the movie “Falling Down” where the defense contractor, played by famous white guy Michael Douglas, completely snaps and starts shooting minorities. My favorite part of the movie is where he goes into a burger joint that is supposed to be in South Central L.A. and is served by none other than Dee Dee Pfeiffer. A whiter than white Valley girl working in a burger joint in South Central.

My wife, who is from South America, once asked, “Don’t Hispanics ever commit any crimes in your TV shows?” My answer was, “Rarely. They will commit marginally more crimes on TV than blacks, but only because Hollywood is more worried about Jesse Jackson coming after them than Edward James Olmos.”

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There was a good reason the women in the audience at Elvis' shows were going berserk back when he was young. And it was the same reason the television networks wouldn't show him from the waist down. He was often up on stage with a big old boner and he'd sometimes get off during the show. The women knew what they were seeing, and so did the television producers. There hasn't been anyone since who could duplicate that.

Elvis impersonators are mostly just pathetic old men. They have no idea about the boner or anything else Elvis had that made the women wild. A few are young guys who were told that they sing so much like Elvis anyway that they might as well make some good money imitating him.

Cops are using their tasers on anyone and everyone, as if they were no more dangerous than a feather. And people are getting hurt and killed. This is not just Memphis. This is nationwide.

Anyone coming through Memphis with a license plate from California, Arizona, New Mexico or Texas is going to get to meet our police. If your tag is from L.A. County you are going to be pulled over several times. Lots of drugs come through here from those places and they are looking for you.

Crooked stupid people can get elected and reelected. All you have to do is appeal to hatred of the White Man and you are in the running. Alternatively, you can just appeal to hatred of men in general. It works about as well. The other side just talks about lowering taxes and then promises a bunch of other bullshit that they have no intention of ever actually doing.

Elvis was a white trash boy who made it big. But he was still white trash and he knew it. In the end it was all too much. But it must have been fun while it lasted.

If you're really weak, pathetic, and insecure you can gain the courage to go out in public by talking on your cellphone nonstop. Do it while you're driving and don't stop when you reach your destination. Walk all through the stores blabbering away like a scared monkey on a tightrope, desperately afraid that your battery will die and leave you all alone in Wal*Mart with no one to hold your hand.

Memphis was founded as a port for ships coming up the Mississippi River. Basically it had hookers and bars and that was about all. Memphis first got a sewer system when the hookers went on strike in demand of it. Because they were such a major industry for Memphis they won. Nothing here has really changed since that time.

Memphis is the Zimbabwe of Tennessee.

There are more narcissists and sociopaths in Memphis then the entire rest of the state combined.

Memphis has more whores than Arkansas, Mississippi and Alabama put together. Not all of them are out on street corners, though. Several of them work at large corporations with corporate offices in Memphis, such as AutoZone, FedEx, Hilton, International Paper, and Regions Bank.

Memphis is the meth capital of Tennessee.

The entire Delta area, of which Memphis is a large part, has always been known for its' deep-seated crime and corruption throughout its' entire history.

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I worked my butt off this weekend. I don't know why I did it. My Wife was gone home to Atlanta and I, seeing an opportunity to sit on my ass and watch football all weekend long, didn't.

Oh, how I wish that I had.

Saturday I cleaned dishes. Then I went to Shelby Farms and ran the 3 mile loop through the woods on asphalt before stumbling over to the lake and running whatever the distance is around that. It's a mile and something, but you have to add a little for dodging duck poop and kids on rollerblades and bicycles. While climbing into my truck, all soaked with sweat and looking extraordinarily nasty, I noticed a group of college students all parked around me and all preparing to do something or other together at the park. I was struck by how good-looking the girls were. And then I was struck by how much younger they all are than me. At this point I wanted to run more, but my legs weren't going to let me, no matter how bad I look.

So, I drove home all stinky and took a shower. Then I did laundry. Finally, I got to sit down and watch Texas get beat by Ohio State.

Dammit.

On Sunday I couldn't figure out if the thunder was ever going to turn into a storm or not. I piddled around for awhile and finally decided to clean the master bath. This was a huge job, as it is primarily my bathroom and thus a huge disaster area that never gets cleaned.

Once that was done I decided to be a nice guy and wash and wax My Wife's car. The paint on her car is starting to look bad, especially on the roof. But it always looks awesome with a good wax job on it. It was about 4 o'clock in the afternoon at this point.

I washed it with all the right tools, even spraying it off with that slow-assed filter thing you pay a fortune for to prevent streaks and water spots. While I was waiting for it to dry I washed my truck.

It was humid as hell on Sunday and the car wouldn't completely dry. So I just started waxing the parts that were dry. Once that was done, I tried to towel off the still wet parts and wax them, too. The roof, of course, was one of the parts that wouldn't dry. I would remember this later.

While I was waxing, the phone rang. I could hear My Wife's voice on the machine telling me she was in Birmingham somewhere and getting gas. I ran inside to answer just as she said "OK, I guess you're not there. Bye" and hung up. I knocked the phone off the wall and the battery popped out. I ended up stepping on the battery as I quickly picked up the phone and yelled "Hello! Hello!" into it. That's when I noticed that the phone was awfully light. And there was something under my foot. I looked down. It was the battery. I looked in the phone. There were the wires that connect the battery to the phone, now ripped out of the battery. I looked down again and noticed that I had actually dented the now-useless battery. "Oh dammit!"

So, at some point I was going to be making a trip to the store for a new battery.

After waxing the hell out of the car I started trying to polish the wax off. It didn't want to come off. It was still damp. I took this as my opportunity to go buy a new battery for the kitchen phone. I cleaned off as best as I could and ran to the store. There were plenty of batteries, but none listed my phone. I had the information from my old battery with me. I just couldn't find an exact replacement. There was a chart showing battery connectors and instructing how you could match up your battery with that. But my connector was still in the phone. At home. Dammit.

So I went home. While I was home I went ahead and tried to polish off the wax. Some of it was shining up nicely, but the wax on the roof was not. It was streaking and staining. Part of it just left a big mark, as if I had puked on the roof. It did NOT look good. I rubbed and rubbed as hard as I could, but it didn't do a damn bit of good. I got out the electric polisher and tried that. No luck. It didn't look any different. Oh what a nightmare this was turning out to be! All I wanted to do was shine up her car so she'd be surprised when she got home and instead I had ruined it.

I decided that I couldn't have 2 disasters at once so I went inside, got the connector out of the kitchen phone, and drove back to the store to buy a new battery. I had the whole damned thing with me, battery, connector and phone. But they didn't have any that were an exact match. I took this as my cue to buy a new phone AND a possibly usable battery, even if it wasn't exactly the right one. Who knows? It might work. I also bought a buttload of different shop towels with all different uses, some for polishing and some for buffing and some for drying, etc. I was going to try them all until I found one that did SOMETHING with that wax on the roof of the car. As I was picking up all these items an employee came over the PA system and informed me that the store was closing in 5 minutes. It was nearly 9 o'clock.

$100 later I was home again with a new battery which did cause the old phone to work again (yay!), and a new phone which Consumer Reports had listed as being top-notch, and a million shop towels. I tried every towel on the roof of that car with no luck at all. Nothing was working.

And then, of course, as I was desperately working my ass off trying to shine up the car after what was now several hours of work, My Wife pulled up in the driveway.

Oh shit.

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First, I must solicit your confidence in this transaction, this is byvirtue if its nature as being utterly CONFIDENTIAL and TOP SECRET.Though I know that a transaction of this magnitude will make any oneapprehensive and worried, but I am assuring you that all will be well at theend of the day.We have decided to contact you due to the urgency ofthis transaction, as we have been reliably informed of your discretenessand ability in transactions of this nature.

Let me start by first introducing myself properly to you. I amMr.Williams John an Accountant with the Union Bank of Nigeria Plc. Lagos, Icame to know of you in my private search for a reliable and Reputableperson to handle this confidential transaction, which involves thetransfer of a huge sum of money to a foreign account requiring maximumconfidence.

THE PROPOSITION:

A foreigner, Late Engineer Walter Tang Min, an OilMerchant/Contractor with the Federal Government of Nigeria, until his death fiveyearsago in a ghastly air crash, banked with us here at Union Bank Plc. Lagos,and had a closing balance of US$13.5M (Thirteen Million, Five HundredThousand United States Dollars)which the bank now unquestionablyexpectsit to be claimed by any available foreign next-of-kin of the Latebeneficiary or alternatively be donated to a discredited trust fund for armsand Ammunition at a military war college here in Nigeria.

Fervent valuable efforts are being made by the Union Bank to get intouch with any of the Walter's family or relatives but proved to avail.It is because of the perceived possibility of not being able to locateany of Late Engr. Walter Tang Min next-of-kin (he had no known wife andchildren) that the management under the influence of our chairman andmember of the board of rectors, retired Major General Kalu Uke Kalu,that an arrangement be made for the funds to be declared "UNCLAIMABLE"andsubsequently be donated to the Trust Fund for Arms and Ammunition tofurther enhance the course of war in Africa and the world in general.

In order to avert this negative development, so of my trustedcolleagues and I now seek your permission to have you stand as a next-of-kinto Late Engr. Walter Tang Min so that the funds US$13.5M would bereleased and paid into your bank account as the beneficiary next-of-kin. Alldocuments and proves to enable you get this fund will be carefullyworked out and more so we are assuring you of a 100% risk free involvement.

Your share stays while the rest would be for my colleagues, andmyself Investment purposes in your country. We have agreed that, the fundswill be shared thus, after it has been transferred into your account 1.30% of the money will go to you for acting as the beneficiary of thefunds. 2. 10% will be set aside for reimbursement to both parties for anyincidental expenses that may be incurred in the course of thetransfer.3. 60% to us the originators of the transaction.

If this proposal is OK by you and you do not wish to take undueadvantage of the trust, we hope to bestow on you and your company, thenkindly get to me immediately via my Fax or privateEmail:williamsjohnnn@yahoo.co.uk for security reason.

Furnishing me with your most confidential telephone, fax number andexclusive bank particulars so that I can use this information to applyfor the release and subsequent transfer of the funds in your favor.

Thank you in advance for your anticipated co-operation.

Yours faithfully,

Mr.williams john

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Can I send out a big Fuck You to a stingray? Would that be over the line? I know Steve Irwin did crazy things sometimes, but he was likable enough and he had a wife and kid. And this time he wasn’t even doing anything to threaten the animal. No one wants to be stabbed in the heart for no good reason. Fuck you, stingray!

What, not sheep or pigs or chickens? And this time it’s not little boys being molested by gay men for once, but instead it’s little girls being molested by heterosexual mountain pedophiles claiming to be doing it with the authority of God. This is a new one. Oddly, it reminds me of the movie “Braveheart”, where the English nobles raped Scottish women on their wedding nights and claimed it was their right because the king said they could. So, in that spirit, I claim it as my right to tie these men to the back of my Chevelle and drag them down the quarter mile track at 140 mph, over and over again, until I run out of gas or break into the 10s, at which point I would be required to install a rollcage and other safety equipment that I don’t really want. Yes, because this is my right as a Scotsman. Bring them to me. And also the woman that played Mel Gibson’s wife. Bring her to me as well. She’s a hottie.

Oooh, would you look at that? Intel sends all its’ technical jobs to third world countries and suddenly finds its’ products and profits turning to shit. Who would’a thunk it? I mean, besides virtually everyone actually doing the work in the IT industry, as opposed to useless fuckin' managers. Yeah, Fuck You, Intel. We all know WHERE the job cuts are going to be and where they AREN’T going to be. We also know why your stock is in the toilet, douchebags.

Roger, the headhunter

Yeah, a great, big, gigantic Fuck You goes out to whoever gave Roger the Headhunter my work phone number. The last thing I need is some cut-throat, car-salesman, headhunter, sociopath calling me at work demanding that I meet with him at 6:30 in the freaking morning to discuss some job he wants to place me in so he can collect a big fat fee and I can get screwed. I’m sick of headhunters. I’m sick of the phone calls and the jerk-arounds. And I don’t ever want some fuckin' headhunter calling my phone at work again. Fuck You for giving this Nicholas Cage “Gone in 60 Seconds”, “Two Rogers don’t make a right”, cartoon character my work number!

I’m sorry, what? Say that again, please. Some political activist group that wants more tax money claims children in New York City are both fat and starving at the same time? Yeah, I’m crying me a fuckin’ river here. Something stinks in NYC and it ain’t the $10 Rolex I bought on the sidewalk there in ‘98. Not that the watch is any good, but at least it doesn’t lie to me about fat hungry kids.

This is very interesting to me because the whole story seems to support everything that I’ve been saying the past few years about the worthlessness of the people representing us in Washington, D.C. Apparently they are finding the fish there so damaged by pollutants in the water supply that they have both male and female sex organs. As always, the males are showing far more damage than the females, but the females are nevertheless rather dykey and manly. This supports my belief that all our men in Congress are a bunch of dickless fairies who call their mommas every time a vote has to be made so that they can ask her what to do. We don’t have leaders. We have eunuchs and Dykes on Bikes. And fuck‘em all, by the way.

Oh, I so don’t care. She’s got the traffic fine money in her shoe, plus court costs in her panties, plus a few thousand extra dollars in God-knows-what. I have no doubt of that. As for the losing of her license, she lives in fuckin’ New York City so I’m sure she doesn’t give a flying cuntfart. Plus, being a massively rich skank ho, she no doubt has a limo and a driver for whenever she needs. Woo hoo, Paris got a DUI. Fuck her. But congrats to her sister, Nicky, for being stand-up enough to go pick her ass up from jail at oh-my-God-it's-early in the morning.

I remember when the EPA said that because of their great and fabulous studies on methane, all the farmers were going to be required to fix their cows so they didn't fart so much. Anyone else remember this? It was a classic example of big government in action. So, does this mean all the Mexican restaurants are going to be closed down? Are we now suddenly going to do something about the Mexicans sneaking across our borders, farting and cooking burritoes? Is Washington going to send troops to foreign countries that have weapons of mass flatulence to stop them from blowing us all away? Is it war with Tony Blair now? Everyone knows the British love a good fart as much as anyone. Oh no, of course not! They'll just propose that cows wear charcoal undies or some stupid shit like that. Yeah, any time you want a supposed "problem" to suddenly get dramatically worse, just let the government study it and then try to fix it. It's guaranteed. Fuck the methane study and fuck government attempts to fix their own made-up problems. I feel a fart coming on and no one is going to stop me from releasing it!

I thought we all knew what explains teenage behavior? Weren’t we all teenagers once? It’s the lack of a brain coupled with the sudden presence of raging genitals that explains teenage behavior. Who didn’t know this? Seriously, who?

I wonder if she’s any good? Wouldn’t it suck to be in a vegetative state, lying there playing tennis all day long, day in and day out, and you suck at it? That would be awful. I’ll bet when she wakes up she’s gonna ask for tennis lessons first thing.